Nesah envied the birds. They could fly wherever they wanted and enjoy the beauty of these cliffs and the sea, far away from the noise of dull people, whenever they wanted. For a moment, she even envied the fishing girls, when she heard them laugh, despite the rough weather and their impoverished appearances. They seemed to have little care about what they wore or looked like, or what was proper or lady-like. And though they lived in abject poverty and were probably under a lot of stress, she had seen families or siblings walking or playing, and there seemed to be more warmth in those families, than in her own.

But of course she wouldn't really want to be one of them, she comforted herself. They smelled and were uneducated and probably got pregnant and married to their cousin at sixteen. They were born to be smelly fisherman's wives and that was all they could ever be. Unless they died before that. And they smelled. Ew. No, they certainly didn't have it better than her.

After staring out across the sea for a while, Nesah turned and spotted the artist she had talked to on the Abbey plain some days ago. Part of her wanted to remain where she was, alone with her thoughts. But now that she was here, she felt her privacy had been disturbed anyway. He seemed to be watching her. And so she walked over to him, taking off her hat, because her arm had gone numb from reaching up. More hair escaped her up-do. It didn't matter. Surely, her brothers wouldn't come out in this weather, and this man's opinion was unimportant.